Soul Meets Body
by changenotcoins
Summary: A chance meeting at a club on Kurt's twenty-first birthday could prove the catalyst for something a tad bit more lasting than a one night stand. AU.
1. Chapter 1

_I want to live where soul meets body  
And let the sun wrap its arms around me  
And bathe my skin in water cool and cleansing  
And feel, feel what it's like to be new_

It is one of those loud and proud New York gay clubs.

It is one of those bars that doesn't inspire him to readily remember its name, even though he knows it's a cliche one, like a gay sports bar called The Tight End or the appropriately dubbed Nothing Served Straight. It is tucked inauspiciously between two stores, and the front door looks like it could lead to an average apartment building or the office of some young, struggling attorney. But inside it's a good place. The floor is scuffed, but it must have once been shiny and perfect; black and white squares that had now faded to shades of gray. The room is packed, the sounds of a song many heated, sweaty bodies are dancing to thumping from the speakers adjacent to the DJ and drinks being slid across the counter of the bar at a seconds glance. It is dim, the only lights in bright colors bouncing off the walls. But in a place like Bohemia, this club is something of a rareity, and there is something about it that made him want to stay despite having been been dragged here against his will in celebration of finally turning twenty-one and of legal drinking age.

The bartender looks like something out of an Armani ad, and maybe if he'd been as bold as he sometimes _wanted_ to be, Kurt would have gladly sidled up to him and flirted his way into a one night stand. But this year, he was without the man he'd thought he'd been in love with and had acquired a job in the fashion industry he could have only dreamed of, vowing to avoid situations he knew would only lead him to trouble. He'd ultimately given in, asking Rachel to take him somewhere that didn't have too much character, a place that wouldn't stand out. Rachel knew the way the city was, and he was grateful she'd taken him here, because it felt right. Hidden away like this.

He's decided to step out in the most fashionable outfit he had for one night, be someone he wasn't just for tonight. Over the top and out there, in ways he had never been. The only person who knew him here was Rachel, and he liked that. He could pretend and then forget when it was all over.

Rachel appears by his side, a cold Corona in her hand. "This is for you," she says, handing it over. "Drink up."

"How did you get this?" Kurt asks, holding up the bottle curiously. He may be twenty-one but Rachel was only on the cusp, just months shy of her birthday.

"Let's just say I have a way with men," Rachel smirks and gives him a wink.

"Um, Rach... I hate to disappoint you, but these men are_gay_."

"I know _that_. It's not like I propositioned them for a date... just some alcohol," Rachel declares. "Look, Kurt, it's your _birthday_. Now I brought you here because I'm tired of seeing you wallow in self pity. You need a fun filled night with booze and boys and I have made it my personal mission to help you achieve that."

Kurt shakes his head, his lips touching the brim of the bottle. "Nope. What I _need_ is to stay away from guys. They just end up letting me down and breaking my heart."

"Oh, jeez. What happened to the old Kurt? The optimistic one, the happy one, the one who believes in fairy tales and the happily ever afters. The one who'd be _very_ glad to hear it's all you can eat after midnight."

"I didn't know they served food here." Kurt raises his eyebrows at his best friend.

"They don't," Rachel winks again, this time looking pointedly at all the men gracing the dance floor.

Kurt rolls his eyes. "I refuse to take part in a sleazy, drunken night that ends with me sneaking out of some random guy's apartment the next morning with no recollection of what happened the night before. Believe me, a part of me would love the whole 'no strings attached' deal, but right now I'm just going to drink a couple of beers and relax. Nothing more."

"Still holding out for that ten, huh?" Rachel asks quietly.

Kurt turns his head to look at his best friend. His eyes are soft, and it occurs to him that what Rachel is doing isn't for the reasons he initially thinks. Rachel _isn't_ trying to pimp him out; she's just trying to help get his life back... and not to mention his libido. He decides to fuck it all and let loose. Just for this one night, and maybe... maybe things will begin to change. He chugs the golden liquid and slams the bottle down on the wood counter, motioning for the bartender to get him a shot of something stronger in the hopes that if he's going to be making a fool of himself tonight, he's damn well not going to do it sober.

* * *

Rachel laughs at her best friend as he throws caution to the wind and shakes his ass out on the dance floor. She decides it's time to depart from the club and leave Kurt to discover what he may on his own. And, as far as she can tell, he's doing a pretty good job of that already. Rachel watches as her best friend dances in ways she's never seen before, but always knew he could. She smiles as she leaves a few bills with the bartender and proceeds to leave, bumping shoulders with a short, curly haired man on her way out. He flashes her a big grin, enough of one to make her knees weak. His eyes are bright and a rich golden color as he apologizes and makes his way swiftly through the enormous crowd. She doesn't know enough about him, but if only Kurt could find a man like that... she shakes her head and keeps walking.

The man keeps walking too, straight into the throng of people. He sees a gorgeous young man dancing shamelessly among them, and decides that it's his turn.

"Hi," He yells over the occupants and the music. He's never really been one to be timid when it comes to the same sex, but something about the person opposite him makes him tingle all over and become _very_ nervous. The young man smiles reassuringly and asks his name and when he tells him, he just laughs and pulls him as close to his body as he can get him.

The music, the air and the feeling of Blaine's hands on his body are intoxicating and he feels the overwhelming attraction between them. He silently thanks Rachel for forcing him to get out and ultimately thrusting him into the Bohemian nightlife and in the arms of another man, one as _gorgeous_ he is - two things of which he hasn't seen the likes of in a very long time. Upon instinct, he grabs the other man's hands and leads him outside, not caring for tonight that he barely knows this man, because somehow he trusts him, or that he's drunk beyond words. But words aren't needed, especially when his lips find Blaine's.

* * *

And somehow, they're not kissing in the cold outside the club anymore, but are making their way up the stairs to Blaine's loft, lips never leaving each other's. Kurt pulls him closer and stumbles backwards until his shoulders hit something solid and wooden.

_Front door_, he thinks, and then coherent thought deserts him entirely.

Blaine's lips are eager and hungry on his, and his curls are soft beneath his skin as he rakes his fingers through them, pulling his mouth more firmly against his. Their kiss increases in fervor with every minute, touches grow bolder by the second, and they stumble through the front door and to the bedroom, neither wanting to let their eager lips away from the other's for long enough to give the task the proper focus it deserves.

And as Blaine gently lowers Kurt down on the rumpled duvet with the air of a man whose had a lot of practice at this sort of thing, he's too drunk to even give a moment's thought about the next two words that roll off of his tongue: "Don't stop."

And so he doesn't.

_'Cause in my head there's a greyhound station  
Where I send my thoughts to far off destinations  
So they may have a chance of finding a place  
Where they're far more suited than here_


	2. Chapter 2

_And I cannot guess what we'll discover  
When we turn the dirt with our palms cupped like shovels  
But I know our filthy hands can wash one another's  
And not one speck will remain_

Kurt is vaguely aware of a pair of strong, muscular arms wrapped around his torso. He's also vaguely aware of the hot breath that is tickling his neck as it exhales and the slight amount of stubble on his shoulder. And he's vaguely aware of a prominent part of his anatomy pressing into Kurt's thigh. But somehow, he doesn't care. On any normal morning he'd protest, but this morning he just inhales the very masculine scents of cologne and slight musk from sleep. He impulsively shifts closer and smiles as a soft breath tickles his hair. His eyes skirt over the form that's in his bed and he realizes it's been a very long while since he's had another man in his bed. He doesn't remember what happened the night before, but as he lifts the sheets gently and takes a peek underneath, his eyes widen at the sight of his naked body and the man's lying next to him. He winces at the revelation, berating himself for doing the one thing he vowed not to.

But he likes this. _Loves_ this.

This man is _gorgeous_, there's absolutely no denying that. His warm, tanned skin is soft underneath Kurt's fingertips as he ghosts them across, his rosy lips look luscious and incredibly kissable curved in a half grin and his eyelashes are _impossibly_ long for a man. But as Kurt knows all too well, looks can be deceiving. He _seems_ perfect, but Kurt knows nothing beyond what he sees. His mind wanders, searching for a solution to extract himself from this situation. He doesn't have much time to dally on the enigma however, for the man beside him is shifting slightly and yawning. He grounds the heel of his palm into his eyes and opens them so slowly that at first Kurt thinks he's imagining him moving altogether to reveal a warm honey color that makes it hard for Kurt to look away. The man scans the room, his eyes coming to rest on Kurt's. His eyes widen, his triangular eyebrows raising high and mumbles something that sounds not unlike the word 'fuck'.

"Hey..." he says wearily, as if expecting something. "Good morning."

"Good morning," Kurt mumbles. He doesn't know what to say beyond the simple cordial response because _nothing_ he says will make the situation any less complicated than it is. But he desperately wants to know if the man beside him remembers even a minute detail, so that maybe he can begin to piece together the events of the previous night. "What exactly happened last night?"

The man shrugs, hooking a finger through a loose thread on his comforter as he avoided those blue eyes. "Your guess is as good as mine," But he _does_ know. He remembers everything, from the moment he first saw the beautiful Kurt to making love to waking up this morning in the arms of someone he's so enamored by. He _knows_ he took advantage of the Kurt's drunk state, and he knows he's downright pathetic for not giving a damn. It's been a long time since he's felt this way about someone and he wasn't about to give up the handed opportunity to spend at least one drunken night with him, even if he has to lie his way through it.

Kurt buries his face in his hands and groans. "God, I don't remember _anything_ except Rachel taking me to some club, but after that it's all a blur. And I don't even know your _name_," Kurt says, and slaps a hand to his forehead as a thought occurs to him. "Fuck, I – how much did I have to drink?" Kurt panics. He doesn't do this. He doesn't _ever_ do this. "Did we _use_ anything?"

Blaine leans over the bed, searching for the wrapper of the condom he knows he used. He finds it half hidden underneath the bed, torn in half in his haste to slip it on the night before. He gives the other man a reassuring smile as he hands the wrapper to him, instantly seeing the relief written over his features.

"Ah, thank God," Kurt sighs. He watches the other man as he hangs his head, his unruly curls sticking up in various directions. Kurt has to admit, he's _adorable_. "I, uh... I don't do this. I'm not this kind of person; I don't sleep around and I don't sleep with strangers. I don't even know you, but I can assure you that the Kurt Hummel you saw isn't me. I'm just - "

"Yeah, you said that and you _keep_ saying that," He cuts in. His voice is quiet but steady, not shying away from Kurt. He's learned over the years that rejection is like a second nature for him from everyone; that instead of letting the words hang in the air, bracing himself for whatever reaction was bound to come, he might as well just agree and move on. But maybe, he thinks, this won't turn out the way the past encounters have because it's one thing he and Kurt have in common. "And I don't either."

"Well, that's good," Kurt says slowly. "I mean, not exactly _good_, because you and I are here but - well, you know what I mean," He laughs awkwardly and oh _god_, he's on the verge of rambling, but inside he's overwhelmingly relieved and it strikes him that if he had to have a drunken one night stand with anyone, he'd have to go with _this_ man. It's inherently weird of him to think that he trusts him already, but a part of him just _does_. The man before him has such a genuine air about him with those ringlets that fall haphazardly and his dazzling smile, a kind face and dancing, read all expressions eyes. He's so damn _handsome_ that it hurts. And Kurt almost wants to feel embarrassed and insecure. He knows he's not at all the ugly duckling he once was, but still; this man slept with _him_.

It remains silent for a few moments before Blaine interjects with the answer to something Kurt had mentioned earlier. "My name is Blaine, by the way."

"Blaine?" Kurt tries to suppress a laugh, but inevitably fails and it breaks the tension somewhat. "I feel like I just stepped into a John Hughes's film."

Blaine gives him a sweet smile, thoughts of the night before flooding back into his mind. He remembers having too many drinks due to Wes's constant persistency, and deciding being good wasn't good enough anymore. He remembers dancing with too many strangers that didn't interest him in the slightest, and then finding someone who did. He remembers asking his name and laughing because it sounded unlike anything he'd ever heard, and throwing himself at him without a care. He remembers what their skin on skin felt like, the desire and lust he felt as the Kurt attacked him with his lips, hands and other body parts. And as he remembers, he realizes he wants to do it _again_ because it had been unlike anything he'd ever experienced. But he keeps this thought buried inside him, doesn't even want to think about scaring Kurt off, although he feels as though Kurt will run away anyways. Because he doesn't really know Kurt but he sees things about him and he's certain that Kurt just wants to forget about the night before, much to his chagrin. Because he knows a one night stand is just that - it doesn't become the happily ever after.

He wasn't going to tell Kurt Hummel anything.

And he was never going to see him again.

"I have to go," Kurt finally whispers, pulling the sheet with him to cover up his exposed body. He dresses with lightning speed and grabs what belongings he has strewn across the floor from the hazy night before. "It's Sunday and I _always_ call my dad, every Sunday. He'll freak out if I don't."

Blaine doesn't say a word, because really, what's there to say? _Please stay? I don't want you to go? I think I might actually like you and want to do this again? _As much as he may want to, he knows he _can't _say any of that.

Because that's not how it works.

"I _really_ have to leave now," Kurt says in a low voice, casting his blue eyes away from Blaine and he backs away toward the door. _This_ is the awkward part of this mess, only made worse by the fact that Blaine has his sad, puppy dog eyes trained on Kurt as he watches him walk away. He sees a mixture of emotions wash over Blaine's face; rejection and sadness and disappointment and _hurt_. Kurt _has_ to go _now_. "Goodbye, stranger."

For the second time in the span of two days, he doesn't listen to himself and does something he knows is against his better judgment.

He lets Kurt Hummel go.

_And I do believe it's true  
That there are roads left in both of our shoes  
But if the silence takes you  
Then I hope it takes me too  
So brown eyes I hold you near  
'Cause you're the only song I want to hear  
A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere_


End file.
